A Red Ribbon For Your Blues
by Tea-and-scone-alliance
Summary: Independence Day OneShot USUK. Every Fourth of July America throws a party, every Fourth of July England stays at home wallowing in his fears. Memories of a child with a red ribbon are constantly in his head, but they are only to be blocked out by the reality the boy has become. Strong, Free, Independent America, they boy who England loved and may still love. Fluff Tears and love..


Tea and Scone Alliance

A Red Ribbon For Your Blues

4/07/14

A/N: Here is my Independence Day special~ USUK of course, now if you excuse me I'm going to comfort my nation…

"_England what happened to you? You used to be so great, amazing…even as you'd say brilliant at one point." America announced looking down at the dishevelled mess kneeling below him. "I no longer want to be your colony, your little brother, from now on…consider me independent." America announced before turning away. _

_The rain was pouring as much as the free flowing tears on England's face, at America's voice he bit back a small whimper and charged forward at the unsuspecting blonde, his bayonet shinning bright against the pale sky above him. He screamed out a yell as America flicked around, his blue eyes wide and almost… innocent._

_This was where he snapped, something in the Englishman broke, it was an invisible force that seemed to be pulling him away from America. Flashes of bright white embers shot in front of his vision momentarily blinding him. He blinked once and before where America once stood was a child, the child he raised, the child he cared and the child he loved. The child's blue eyes were swirling in fear at the sight of England, his bayonet aiming straight for his face. _

_Then reality hit, he realised that he had stopped suddenly as America's own bayonet pierced through his chest. Sweet simple reality came crashing down as the face of the child melted away, though the blue eyes and wheat hair were the same, but this time the blues weren't scared they were angry, depressed and somehow, a small glimpse of pride._

"_England, I love you, but not like this." America said once before removing the bayonet with a quick swish it was out of England's chest and the English nation fell to the ground, his white undershirt was now a growing circle of crimson red, as red as his coat. Though he didn't fell red, he felt blue, as blue as America's eyes, as blue as America's coat and as blue as the day he had found him. _

_With his face down in the dirt, he let his emotions out as he wept into the wet soil of the earth. With America's new independence he could fell he wasn't welcomed there, and it was true, America didn't want him, he wanted freedom and England couldn't offer that._

_England saw something drop into the ground before him, it was small, red and tattered and nearly twisted England's already broken heart. It was a red ribbon, the same ribbon he had given the boy when he had found him. His hand clawed out to the ribbon in the dirt, once he grasped onto the ribbon he pulled it close to him, clutching it close to his chest under his body. He looked up once to see nothing but empty barren plains and the dead and dying soldiers of his army. He cursed once before everything went dark._

England woke up with a scream as he practically leapt out of bed into a sitting position; his Scottish fold practically jumped from its comfortable napping position at the end of the bed and ran out the open door of the bedroom.

England cursed as he looked over to his digital alarm clock, _July the 4__th. _He had been feeling ill the entire week, going in and out from a schedule of either vomiting or coughing up blood - he had lost count of the amount of blood covered handkerchiefs that were in his laundry - sighing the Briton rolled off the side of his bed and sluggishly walked to his bathroom.

Opening the door to the bathroom he immediately felt his stomach churning as he laid eyes on his toilet. Shaking his head violently he moved to the sink that stood adjacent to the white wooden door, the sink was clean-as usual- with a small block of fresh lavender soap and a Yardley face cleanser. His hands roamed over his skin as he looked up at the mirror and grimaced at the sight of himself.

He had greying bags underneath his eyes and his eyes weren't great either, they had somehow lost their green vibrancy, revolving back into this pale milky green. His skin, though being pale already, was an unhealthy alabaster that showed off the outlines of his jawline and cheekbones as they were more prominent than prier.

Rolling his eyes he reached over to the cleanser and squeezed a decent amount into his hand, his hands rose up to his face and he applied a generous amount to his face before he reached over to the faucet to turn on the running water.

Memories of all those years ago kicked in as he stood there washing his face, memories he wanted to forget, memories he wanted to change, and memories he wanted to never exist. Turning off the faucet he grabbed the hand towel by the side of the sink, gently patting down his face he turned his head at the knock of the door.

He groaned once before folding down the hand towel and stepping out of the bathroom. He had no time to change out of his pyjamas - which were a **manly**__flannelette with pink unicorns - walking down the stairs to his small quaint living room he set his eyes on the door, which had a bobbing blonde waiting at the front, (he could tell as the was a small glass panel above the door).

His mind went wild at the thoughts of who it could have been, France? No the figure was too tall to be France. Russia? The figure was matching Russia's height but didn't exactly have the same wheat coloured hair…wait a minute. Wheat coloured hair? _No anyone but him._

"Go away America you are not welcome here today." He said bitterly as he backed away from the door. He didn't want to see him, not today of all days.

"Iggy I just wanted to come over and invite you to my party! You never accept my invitations; you'd think they'd get lost in your postage system." America joked at the door but England knew there was another reason behind it, as he was hesitant to open the door.

"America please go home and don't make me tell you twice." England replied sternly

"Iggy all I want to do is talk, please." Alfred pleaded through the door and England reluctantly opened it.

England's eyes lit up at the sight of the American. He was dressed in normal "human" clothes, that he meant a blue shirt with the superman logo on it and a pair of blue jeans and red converse on his feet. The shirt showed off the fine defined muscles of the American and Arthur couldn't do much but stare, not only at the shirt but at what was in America's hands.

In his hands were a bundle of flowers, red and white roses mixed together in a beautiful bouquet. The wrappings of the bouquet were red, white and blue, but they weren't the colours of Old Glory or Union Jack oh no. They were a combination of both, as the patterns of the blue wrapping paper were patterned in stars, 50 of them, while the red had tiny stripes of blue and white.

England looked shocked as he stared up from the navy blues of the bouquet to the sky blue eyes of America. The American smiled a gentle smile to the other blonde who had loss all motion, he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, all he could do was stare into America's mesmerizing sapphires.

Luckily for England, America took the first step forward, reaching up off the porch and into the Brit's unsuspecting arms. He wrapped his arms around England's waist and the latter latched onto America's neck, his hands weaving their way around the nape. England broke down on the spot and began to cry into America's neck while the American rubbed down Brit's back in slow comforting circles.

"England, I said I loved you and I always did, but not the way I love you know." America announced before pulling England away from his neck. England's eyes were a tainted green and bloodshot red, he looked up to America confused and before he knew what was going on America's lips crashed onto his.

England froze for the first few seconds but slowly came to his senses. England slowly pressed his lips back against America, they moved against each other's movements in an almost perfect melody. When one moved left, the other moved right and they continued this process of raw emotion until England pulled away for breath.

They looked up into each other's eyes momentarily before America broke out into a small laugh and England followed along in a chuckle. The ash blonde smiled as his hands roamed over the Briton's cheek affectionately and lovingly.

"So this means you feel the same?" America asked, his hands admiring the softness of his skin, but frowning at the appearance of the Brit.

The Briton blushed as he noticed how attentively America was staring, he was underweight and skinny, most certainly not an attractive sight, but when he looked into America's eyes he felt that he was more than that, that he actually meant something to someone.

"Ever since you gave me your most prized possession," He announced before raising the sleeves to his shirt, a red ribbon was tied around the wrist and America couldn't help but smile, "I always loved you America, I just never knew it was more than just brotherly." He smiled a genuine smile that warmed his face and his heart and met America for another kiss.


End file.
